B J 

Gr\5 





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WILFRED TGRENFELL 




Book 

X° 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




©CLA376454 
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THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



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PART I 

The Why of Life 

1 HAVE just been talking to the sailor 
of the "Carmania," who last voyage 
dived overboard in the night, in so 
heavy a sea that already over a hundred 
lives had been lost trying to launch the 
lifeboats. He did this just in order to 
save a poor immigrant. 

"Why did you take the risk?" I 
asked. "Did any one suggest it to 

you?" 

"Oh, no," he replied, "but I am a 
good swimmer, and I couldn't let the 
poor beggar perish under my eyes." 

"Was he the only man in the water?" 

"No, they told me there was another 
fellow forward." 

"Didn't anybody go after him?" 

"No." 

"What happened to him then?" 

"Well, he was dashed against the 
side of the ship and killed." 
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THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



"Couldn't anybody else swim?" 

"Yes, but I suppose they hadn't 
time." 

"How long were you in the water 
before they got you?" 

"Just half an hour. You see the 
man in the water grabbed me two or 
three times, and tried to drown me. 
Then we were washed off the ladder 
twice." 

"They say you were nearly drowned." 

"That's true all right." 

"Did he pay for his life?" 

"Not a cent. He hadn't a penny." 

"Would you do it again if you had 
the chance?" 

"Of course I would." 

Why? That is the question. Why? 
Why take so tremendous a risk "for 
nothing" ? After the fierce struggle was 
over, and the awful suspense relieved, 
and the common sailor was again on 
board, they told me that the men who 
had been watching cheered themselves 
hoarse, while the women wept for joy. 
Why? Again that is the question. 
The very cynic dare not challenge the 
act. Yet science did not insist on it, 
[8] 



THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



or earthly philosophy inspire it. Politi- 
cal and social economy might not even 
approve it. But every one knows it 
was right, and the man himself who 
risked his life actually wanted more 
such chances. For my part he made 
me feel jealous. I wish that his prize 
might have been mine. 

But what was the prize? Not the 
opportunity, nor the immigrant's life, 
nor any material reward. They are all 
passing things. The prize was his reali- 
zation that he was needed, and the 
supplying of that need. That is the 
greatest prize in the world. It is eternal. 
Our own souls consent that the mere 
mechanical doing of our absolute duty 
can give us no satisfaction that we are 
divine. The Master pronounced such 
lives as unprofitable. In such demon- 
strations that our souls, that we, are 
other and greater than our material 
bodies, we gain a glimpse of the un- 
speakable value of life. This is a prize 
that we can always and everywhere 
carry with us, once we have caught the 
vision. The prize comes with the pos- 
session of the character. It does not 
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THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



come in a lump at the end. It is the 
continuous joy of having character. 

Captain Scott's expedition brought 
back from the South Pole valuable 
specimens of minerals, many collections 
of great worth, much new information. 
But are those the durable prizes he won? 
Disappointed bitterly, suffering cruelly, 
his companions dead, and the hand of 
death already on his own shoulder, 
alone, in that awful cold and isolation 
which he knew only too well must soon 
rob him of his life, he was thinking and 
writing of what? Just words of com- 
fort to the loved ones of his lost com- 
rades. Nothing on earth that we know 
of can rival the beauty of our heavens 
lit by the matchless aurora. Even its 
glories, however, just because they are 
material, pale before such a spiritual 
triumph over physical death. That 
splendid action will remain a priceless 
heirloom for all time for those who 
loved him, and a prize that shall make 
every man that is a man ever love him 
for achieving. It gave him in that 
terrible time the only possible joy. 

The prize is the greater because all 
[10] 



THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



can win it. The great "Titanic," her 
sides gored by the soulless mountain of 
ice, plunged down in the darkness of 
night through the frigid water to the 
fathomless abyss of the ocean, but a 
half-dozen musicians snatched the prize 
from the very jaws of death, as they 
played to encourage and comfort others. 
Death could only silence their earthly 
music. They had won that which shall 
ring out through all the ages, a prize 
they could gain in no other way. Nor 
will the world soon forget the superb 
self-abnegation of those engineers who 
remained voluntarily imprisoned in the 
bowels of the sinking ship, that she 
might go down, as she did, with her 
lights burning. The simple statement, 
"The lights went on to the end," is 
the best evidence of how they too 
robbed physical death of its sting and 
victory. 

For our comfort we may remember, 
however, that the prize is not created 
by such extreme physical circumstances. 
Booker Washington, a ragged boy 
cleaning and recleaning and cleaning 
again the room into which he was turned 
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THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



to test his good faith, persisting long 
after he had done all that the world 
would demand as his duty, marked out 
one way to win it. It is not the ex- 
traordinary circumstance which makes 
the hero. That only points out the 
hero for a moment. 

The prize of life is to be won every 
day. The winner is always a hero; just 
as Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch 
was a heroine. A lawyer wins it who 
sees he can go and does go beyond 
merely convicting or freeing his client; 
who, like Judge Lindsey, takes further 
steps to help him to a new manhood. 
The judge wins it who seeks so to ad- 
minister justice as not to revenge but 
to redeem; the doctor wins it who works 
not for his fees but for his patient, and 
who seeks by his teachings to eliminate 
the need for his own services. The 
banker wins it who tries to safeguard, 
not his personal gain, but his client's 
confidence; the merchant wins it who 
rejoices not in his profits, but in his 
utility and the good values he gives; 
the educator who seeks to develop not 
scholarship primarily, but character; 
[ 12 ] 



THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



the housewife who lives, not for personal 
adornment, but for the grace and beauty 
of her home; the domestic who cares 
first of all for the loyal service she 
renders, and not for the wages she earns. 
To every class, in every rank of life, 
there comes the call. The prize is 
obtained in the act of answering that 
call. 

Wealth answers it by acknowledging 
its responsibility in earnest distribution. 
Poverty answers it by thrift and manly 
effort. The athlete answers it, not in 
star plays, but in team work; the 
scholar, not in the conceit of learning, 
but in skill and eagerness to impart his 
knowledge; the teacher of religion, not 
by "tears and texts," but in "life 
abundant." 

It is a very riot of joy, a triumph that 
is eternal, this prize of life. It has no 
dependence on material things, but it 
needs and uses every one of them. 
"The moments when you really live," 
said Drummond, "are the moments 
when you do things in the spirit of 
love." This is exactly the Master's 
way, the way of giving and being given. 
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THE PRIZE OF LIFE 

Men have tried to make it the way of 
getting things material, of submitting 
to dogmas, of practising barren asceti- 
cism; often seeking it by the way of 
cruelty and selfishness and bloodshed; 
while all the time it is the way of life, 
taught in the Book of life, by the Bread 
of life and the Water of life, that we 
on earth might have Life abounding. 
Perhaps the most pathetic comment 
ever uttered was made by that very 
human man who loved and was loved 
by the Master, to the world which was 
rejecting the prize, "You have killed 
the Prince of Life." 



[14] 



PART II 



\t 



The When of Life 

At a congress of surgeons a while ago 
I was introduced to a roomful of 
strangers as "a Doctor famous for his 
laboratory work." The butler mistook 
the word "Labrador." The odd thing 
is he was right. The sooner we recog- 
nize it the better — our life is a field 
for experimenting in faith. It is not 
a museum where we are on show, or a 
bargain counter where we get all we 
can for the money. We are all vivi- 
sectionists, cutting into other people's 
lives. God help us not to hurt them, 
unless it be to heal. The prize comes 
in the love that enables us to be wise. 

In spite of the advances of knowledge 
we are still empiricists bound to experi- 
ment even in the most material realms. 
We gave quinine for malaria before we 
knew of the parasite; and we give 
mercury and a hundred other "cures," 
[15] 



THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



only because we have tried them and 
not found them wanting. It is still 
practically an uncharted coast which I 
navigate from the time the sea opens 
up in the spring, till it finally closes in 
the irresistible bonds of winter, and I 
have struck many shoals, and I have 
suffered not a little in mind and pocket. 
But if I had waited for absolute knowl- 
edge, I should never have started, and 
my chance for the prize would have 
been lost. Moreover, others in other 
ways have been winning out at the 
same time in the same water. I re- 
member a boy at school who never 
would enter a race if he did not feel 
sure he would win. He lost the love 
and respect of us all, besides many 
material prizes. He was a "poor sport," 
in our English parlance. It is manful 
and natural to love sport. This is 
partly what made me hate the painted 
windows in our church. It made Paul 
dress up like a woman, he who had 
"fought a good fight"; and I wanted 
my Christ to be the captain of the foot- 
ball team, and "on the eleven." I just 
could not love Him if He would only 
[16] 



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THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



wear petticoats, and gaudy ones, all 
be jeweled at that. All my ideals were 
of real men ready for contest. The 
books I loved were "The Men of Action 
Series." The boy scout uniform appeals 
to every man. It suggests endurance, 
vigilance, readiness, ability, and self- 
mastery. 

The glory of it all is that that is ex- 
actly the way Christ tells us to win our 
prize. Think of the fun of it all. Yet 
some call a ballet dance or a tango trot 
the "joie de vivre." It is not the 
"joie" with which I am at issue, for I 
have enjoyed the rightful satisfaction 
of physical victory. I can still feel the 
throb of pride that stirred me when I 
found myself chosen to represent my 
University on their football team. 
Every athlete knows it, and knows it 
is a true joy. It is the restriction of 
the word vivre to which I object. "Tears 
and texts; texts and tears" stood for 
religion, as General Baden-Powell said, 
he who made the world laugh at the 
downright fun he had in defending 
Mafeking against superior forces, till 
all the world caught it, and London 
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THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



went wild with the fever. They called 
it "Maf eking" instead of "Tango." 
The prize is the "Maf eking" in the 
real fight of life. 

The daily joy of honest, hard- won 
victory. Think of it — a victory which 
builds up and does not destroy, which 
does not kill, but makes alive. Think 
of the awful sweetness of the prize in 
the winning. Only direst necessity 
drives men to turn into cash a trophy 
once won. Anyhow, you couldn't cash 
laurel leaves. The " Pots " on our shelves 
do not give us joy because of their avoir- 
dupois of rare metals, but for the flood- 
gates of memories they open up. The 
world and General Gordon are the 
richer because love was the necessity 
that made him send to the melting-pot 
his great Memorial Gold Medal, to 
help out in the Chinese famine fund. 
That is Christ's way. To win we must 
all just "toe the line," and keep step 
with the Leader. But if it is all so 
joyful, and its satisfactions are so 
durable, why isn't His service already 
universal, why hasn't His Kingdom yet 
come? 

[18] 



THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



Why? Why? Why? Still the ever- 
lasting "Why?" Well, that is just it. 
It is because the world is not run on 
lines of reason yet. Carlyle's judg- 
ment of England was that it was a 
nation mostly of fools. Once it was 
believed that "only the fool of the 
family went into the Church." Once 
the high and mighty in wisdom and 
estate called men "Christians" in deri- 
sion, because their way of life was 
foolishness to the wise. Now we know 
that the Master demanded the "service 
of our reason"; and to the modern 
mind His way to the prize of life de- 
mands dogmas that are reasonable 
expressions of our experience. As we 
get wiser we realize that the principal 
thing we need is understanding. 

I was pleading a short while ago with 
a clever man, a college graduate, an 
author, a man of wealth, yes, a man of 
social position, and of many millions, a 
husband and father, "Why don't you 
give it up? It is killing you?" He 
was sitting up in the cabin of my little 
hospital steamer. He had been terribly 
ill with alcoholic delirium. He had 
[19] 



THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



suffered untold physical agonies by 
having drunk methyl alcohol, because 
he was unable to get at whisky for the 
moment. "I've done with it forever," 
he replied. "Wild horses would not 
make me touch it again. I know it is 
killing me." "You will? If you will 
let me, I will stand by and help you. 
Here's my hand," I replied. 

But he returned to it. Why? Why? 
Is that what you ask? Because he had 
ruined his own will power. But surely 
he must have seen what he was losing? 
He must have realized that everything 
which makes the world sweet and beauti- 
ful and desirable and tolerable and not 
a miserable mockery of the devil, hung 
in the balance? 

No, that is just what he could not do. 
Wisdom had vanished; the man had 
gone blind and could not see. One of 
my first patients in Labrador was a 
man who could not see. A lancet, a few 
drops of cocaine, a day or two in a dark 
room, and he saw again. I can see him 
now as he sat writing. He literally 
followed in the footsteps of Bartimaeus. 
He got up and he walked. But who 

[20] 



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THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



could make this other man with soul- 
blindness see? That sight comes from 
above. Another poor lad was brought 
to me with both eyes injured by ice, 
both irretrievably ruined. There are 
cases of blindness of the physical eye 
which no man can cure. After he left 
our hospital, this poor fellow painfully 
begged and worked his way all the long 
journey to the shrine of St. Anne de 
Beaupre. But he did not get his sight 
there. God allows incurable blindness. 
But spiritual blindness is wilful. Per- 
haps the physically blind receive in 
compensation more of the prize of life. 
Who has a right to pity Helen Keller, 
whose sweet soul, barred into its cages 
of deafness, dumbness and blindness, 
flows over with the real things of life 
and is conscious of the prize of being a 
blessing to the world? 

Why do not all men get that vision? 
Well, we know now that we comprehend 
so little, that we are not even staggered 
by this great eternal question. We are 
at least humbly grateful that it has not 
pleased God to make us automata, or 
condemn us to the perpetual resentment 
[21] 



THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



of a conscript people. He has left his 
athletes some little rags of dignity. We 
dont run naked to our shame. What 
prize would there be if every man were 
forced to win it? Think of the piteous 
satisfaction of carrying off a trophy which 
we had been driven against our wishes 
to strive for. 

Faith being then the prize winner, 
will and wishes have more to do with 
this matter than many will allow. For 
we have learnt that there is a "will to 
believe." If there is ever such a phe- 
nomenon as a soul claiming never to 
have had a chance, I should like to see 
it; and I should not sorrow for it. 
For that is God's chance, and I know 
what His will is on a question like that 
— that every man should win. 

There is an old tale which will bear 
repetition. Man had conceived a most 
damnable lie. He conceived that his 
God of love had created some men on 
purpose to make them "lost souls." 
It puzzled the poor native, and he could 
not and would not consent to such a 
revolt of his reason. "It is easy to 
understand," said his friend, with that 
[22] 



Vlivf 



5 w- 



THE PRIZE OF LIFE 

wisdom which is from on high. "Why, 
r it is this way. The Devil, he votes for 
you, and God, He votes for you, and 
the election of your soul depends on 
the way you yourself vote." But to 
be chosen we must be candidates. 

Friends all, the world is but a polling 
booth. The prize is within your wish. 
The ballot is in your own hand. Which 
way will you vote? 

The question as to "How soon" or 
"How late" the prize is still attainable 
has troubled not a few. Such may 
remember that no precedence is offered 
at any time to the righteous or the 
mighty. "Now" and "Forever" is the 
only answer men of large faith can ever 
accept as adequate. Surely one of the 
greatest mistakes in the world is to 
consider "Now" as only a training time 
for a big prize distribution hereafter. 
"Brothers, Now are we the sons of 
God" — what greater prize can there 
be than that relationship? We have 
lost ground. We have not now the 
position we should like to be holding 
relatively in the field — and which we 
ought to be holding — but who shall 
[23] 



THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



persuade us we are permanently dis- 
qualified or out of the running? What 
can permanently separate us from the 
source of power to win? Shall life, or 
death, or any other thing? No. No. 
"When" can only possibly be answered 
by "Hope" — and Hope is eternal till 
lost in realization. 

Think then of a race in which it is 
never too late to be a winner, of a battle 
in which we have always left a chance 
of being victor. Think of a prize which 
grows greater and only grows greater 
as we possess it, and which itself enables 
us to make it grow yet endlessly greater 
still. This does not encourage delay 
— it ceaselessly demands immediate 
decision. 

Though we cannot always exactly 
answer the question "Why we started" 
or even, perhaps, when we started, yet 
giving a reason is nearly sure to be the 
directest way to inspire confidence. 
We hate to be forced and driven along 
any road in life. Yet we become con- 
scious that go we must, and either seek- 
ing a reason must own it to be faith and 
act on that, or else we must just drift 
[24] 



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U/& 



THE PRIZE OF LIFE 

along, having lost hope in any possible 
solution, or being too satisfied with our 
own personal comfort to acknowledge 
any reason to do more. Many people 
on the "Titanic" did not wish to get 
out into the boats. It seemed irra- 
tional, and it certainly was not com- 
fortable. Some, even after they knew 
she had struck, went back to bed. It 
is right to want to know all the "whys," 
and there seems no question but that 
we have either probed somewhat into 
the mysteries of the universe, or else 
the shutter has been opened and light 
let in in response to our petitions and 
needs. We really can see as through a 
glass, darkly, but not yet the perfect 
day. The prophets have now the ex- 
perience of the athletes to assist them. 



[25] 



PART III 

The How of Life 

JCjNOUGH of the vision may be ours, 
both as concerns our intellects or our 
real selves, to enable us to abandon our 
querulous "Whys?" and busy ourselves 
with the more practical "How?" The 
stage of asking "why?" is like the man 
who takes the field, and kicks off the 
ball. The real players in the game are 
those who are entirely concerned with 
"How?" Why should we care so much 
to win in physical fields, seeing that 
often enough it is our own brother who 
is the captain of the opposing team? 

When first we introduced football 
into Labrador, it had to be mutually 
agreed before the game that neither side 
should win; and we saw the unusual 
spectacle of the side which had been 
scored against, solemnly allowed to 
walk across the field and kick a goal to 
save them the feeling of being beaten. 

Of course we want to win, and we do 
not want to be beaten, and therefore 
[26] 



THE PRIZE OF LIFE 

it must be more than worth while to 
be concerned with the last question, 
"How?" This is a pressing question. 
For it is no good asking it when the 
ship is taking her last dive, when it 
becomes obvious that if we are to win at 
all it must be in some other field than 
this material one. 

Here is the problem tumbling about 
my knees as I write. God has en- 
trusted me with the lives of two boys. 
Of course I want them to win. Yes, 
to win everything that it is possible for 
them to win. If any one really cares to 
know why, it is because I love them. 
That is the reason why I believe that 
God cares if I win, and win others. 
Isn't this sane reasoning? What kind 
of man, what sort of citizen, can he be 
who shelves, and neglects to put all that 
he is worth into this question, "How?" 

A noble lord is reported as saying the 
other day that he recognized the im- 
possibility of preventing horse racing 
and its attendant evils, and for his part 
he did not want to try. The quarrel 
is not with racing. There is no reason 
I can see why that should not be as 
[27] 



THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



desirable between horses as between 
men, and both of my hands go up for- 
ever for clean competition. For that's 
one answer to the question "How?" 
"Corpus sanum" has always been ad- 
mitted to be an important step on the 
road to "mens sana"; just as we are 
sure that it is the road which Christ 
trod, and would have us tread too, if we 
are to gain Heaven's gate. The attitude 
which is despicable is that of the man 
who recognizes amoral danger or evil, and 
does not at once seek to try and stop it. 
That man must be branded a coward. 
A young missionary doctor, working 
in an isolated mountain village in Persia, 
was surrounded by twenty thousand 
Kurdish rifles. He had been instru- 
mental in saving the life of the Chief's 
son by a skilful surgical operation. 
He was safe enough personally, but he 
knew that worse than extinction awaited 
his neighbors. He owed them no debt 
according to ordinary standards, but he 
realized their danger, and rode through 
a shower of lead to the Kurdish head- 
quarters, pleaded for the village, and 
saved their lives and property. The 
[28] 



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THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



CP 



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prize was his. How? He was awake 
to see the danger, and he was faithfully 
fearless. He caught the vision of his 
opportunity and acted upon it. Yes, 
the man who sees an evil and does not 
accept the challenge to fight it is exactly 
what I heard him called the other day, 
"a traitor and an anarchist." I had 
gone with a famous surgeon from Balti- 
more to hear Graham Taylor of the 
Chicago Vice Commission speak before 
the Baltimore Civic Club. He went 
on to say, "Vice must not be recognized 
and 'segregated.' It must be annihi- 
lated." What he said appealed to the 
sense of chivalry in that roomful of men, 
a chivalry which the centuries are not 
seeing extinguished because we wear 
trousers and check coats instead of 
gauntlets and greaves and coats of mail. 
On the contrary, the Christ-breeze is 
fanning the spark into flame, and the 
things that will not stand fire are be- 
ginning to be consumed. That war 
and bloodshed and the armor of armed 
men should be the symbol of glory and 
greatness we recognize now as belonging 
to the period of the soul's infancy. 
[29] 



THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



A short while ago I was standing 
opposite the statue of Kosciuszko in 
Washington. My friend of the Supreme 
Judicial Court who was with me sud- 
denly remarked, "We are just beginning 
to be sorry that all these statues of , 
fighting men should monopolize this 
beautiful square. We want different 
ideals nowadays with which to sur- : 
round our children. We want them to 
learn to appreciate the victories of the 
men of peace, and to learn to covet S. 
their ideals and achievements." 

It is natural for the young to love 
contest and victory, but how shall they 
be directed towards winning the real 
prize of life? Christ's way again. Let 
the young drink in from their infancy 
the idea that fighting is right, so long 
as it is a battle to raise up, and not to 
knock down; fighting not for self, or 
against another man, but for another 
man. Christ's call is just that splendid 
call which, like that of the Jodeler in 
the Alps, brings forth the clearest and 
sweetest echoes. It is not the "call of 
the wild," nor is it the call of the tame 
and uninteresting, as some people pre- 
[30] 



THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



tend to think it. It is the distinct, clear 
call of the world to its service. 

There were other vessels in the range 
of the C.Q.D. and the S.O.S. calls of 
the perishing "Titanic." But not all 
answered. A while ago I was asked to 
speak to a body of students at a dinner 
on "The Choice of a Calling." Words 
seem sometimes to have so selected 
themselves that they force the users 
of them to stop and think. These men 
had to admit that the world is calling 
each of us, and that our answer is a matter 
of choice. Here then is another "How." 

When the "Volturno" was burning 
at sea, her wireless calls for help brought 
a fleet of vessels round her. Not one 
within hearing distance failed to answer. 
The lesson of the "Titanic" had been 
learned. They were awake to hear, 
vigilant to see. 

How is the young soul to be awakened? 
What is the message that shall reach 
the ear, or the magic wand which shall 
reveal to the eye the prize in its beauty, 
so that youth shall long to make every 
sacrifice to gain it? Words, sermons 
and homilies? What vision of the value 
[31] 



THE PRIZE OF LIFE 



of purity can he bear whose own life is 
impure? What conviction of the truth 
of the blessedness of giving can he 
bring whose every act is mean and 
sordid? Can any combination of sounds 
and signs induce self-sacrifice, if it is 
known that the utterer of these is him- 
self cruel and vile? We do not expect 
a refreshing draught from a poisoned 
stream. 

What shall we do then? How then 
can the soul be reached? Christ's way. 
"If ye will not believe me (for my 
word's sake), believe me then for the 
very work's sake;" "Ye that have seen 
me, have seen the Father, and ye shall 
be one, even as the Father and I are 
one." The Christ living in us, working 
in us, till he looks out from our eyes, and 
shines in our faces, and men take knowl- 
edge of us that we have been with Jesus 
and learned of Him. That is "how." 
The "Why?" must be answered by 
Faith; the "When?" by Hope, and the 
"How? " by Love. Thus is Christ "the 
way," and thus Faith, Hope, and Love 
the triune prize of life — truly the 
greatest of all its wondrous gifts. 
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